Motivating Holly

Holly needs encouragement to meet her target, and be rewarded...

"Well, what's the answer?" enquires her husband, managing a convincing impression of someone who doesn't care one way or another.

"According to the bathroom scales, 140lbs," Holly replies crossly.

"Almost the same as when you started, maybe two pounds difference, what's your target?"

"Around 125lbs," Holly definitely sounds fed up, and possibly rather guilty.

"I see - well you're certainly sticking to this ridiculous diet at home, so I can only assuming the backsliding occurs somewhere else," says Jon reasonably.

"It's hard to control what's in food when you eat out or at a friend's house," Holly suggests by way of an excuse. It sounds flimsy, even to her.

"True - so just eat less - in any case I suspect your penchant for coffee and cake make be the real culprit," retorts Jon sagely.

Holly frowns, is he going to behave like a grown-up all evening? "Not fair," she pouts, "I don't drink, don't smoke, a girl's got have a some fun."

"Fine by me - look, as I said right from the start, I think you look gorgeous at whatever weight, so don't get grouchy when this unnecessary diet plan fails." Jon's a straightforward guy so Holly knows this unforced compliment to be sincere; she smiles inwardly, a little male adoration is balm to her soul.

"But..." she ventures.

"But nothing, it was your idea to lose a few pounds so don't blame me for forcing you into a masculine stereotype of what a woman's shape should be, I'm not a bloody Hollywood film producer." Hmm, her man is definitely being assertive now, a trait she's always found most attractive about him.

"However," Jon continues, "when you began this diet I offered to help by rewarding success and punishing," heavy emphasis and raised eyebrows, "failure. Looks like it's time to take the consequences of your lack of effort"

"Are you going to spank me?" she asks archly.

"Nice try - but we both know full well how much you enjoy having that lovely bottom smacked, and what inevitably follows. However, since you seem incapable of self-discipline I am going to apply some much-needed correction."

Oh dear, this doesn't sound good. "But you promised to incentivise me," Holly protests.

"Look at it as negative incentivisation."

"You mean something horrid I won't want to repeat?"

"Exactly."

Holly winces at the thought. Jon has only properly punished her twice before, once with his belt and once with a hairbrush. Christ it had hurt. On one occasion as retribution for her being drunk and embarrassing in public, the other for stubbornly contradicting his directions and getting them hopelessly lost on holiday abroad. Alternatively, she thinks, suffering for her sins then being held and comforted afterwards might be the best, albeit rather biblical, expiation. An opportunity to indulge her submissive streak, Holly likes a man to be a man.

She's certainly not disappointed by Jon's next authoritative action. Walking purposefully towards Holly he slowly pushes her backwards across the room. Step after step, steering her inexorably towards the dining table with look in his eyes so intense she can't bring herself to turn away or make even the most token resistance. With a gentle bump she's halted by the table's edge. "Sit on it," he orders curtly.

Perplexed Holly does so, long, bare legs and feet in high-heeled sandals dangling from the edge, painted toenails (bright red to match her trademark lip gloss) reflecting the early evening sunlight. Wordlessly Jon trails his fingertips down over the swell of Holly's breast to her left nipple, tweaking it gently between finger and thumb; he repeats the procedure with the right, this time a little harder. She experiences an electric surge of adrenalin-fuelled excitement, simultaneously thrilling and scary.

He adjusts her position, placing Holly's hands at the table's front edge to steady herself; pushing back her shoulders and in doing so thrusting those adorable boobs into prominence. Jon smiles his approval, unbuttons the top two buttons of her summer dress to expose her cleavage, then leans in to squeeze both nipples, feeling them immediately harden. All the while he holds Holly's gaze, implicitly daring her to protest.

Fat chance; if this is meant to be punishment bring it on. Holly holds her breath in anticipation, suddenly feeling very hot; I am such a slut, she thinks, about to be chastised, goodness knows how or with what, and all I can focus on is how horny I am. Her nipples are now so stiff they hurt, the more Holly looks up at Jon, the wetter she gets.

He flips the front hem of the summer dress up to her waist and pushes her knees apart, alluringly exposing red panties and Holly's sun-kissed lower limbs in all their gamine glory. Slowly and deliberately Jon runs his hands up and down her inner thighs; visibly excited, Holly sighs deeply at this sensuous touch. Perhaps, she hopes, he's abandoned the idea of discipline in favour of sex; it wouldn't be the first time she's been screwed on this particular tabletop. Goodness, I am so ready to get fucked!

"Don't move." Jon's abrupt command jerks Holly from her erotic reverie. "Close your eyes and keep perfectly still."

She hears his footsteps echo across the room as he walks out the door. Holly waits, rigid with trepidation and completely obedient, not daring to move a muscle or open her eyes before his footsteps return, stopping adjacent to the table.

Without warning a livid line of fire sears across the top of her legs and Holly's eyes open wide in shock and dismay. Amid yelps and gasps of surprise and pain Jon methodically applies a wicked plastic ruler to the entire front of each thigh - up one side, down the other. No explanation, no pause for respite. Yelling in outrage and hurt, hands frantically gripping the table, Holly's feet kick wildly.

Ignoring her increasingly animated response to this unexpected punitive onslaught Jon repeats the exercise, this time paying particular attention to Holly's sensitive inner thighs, marking them with livid red stinging wheals

Eventually she finds her voice, pleading for her husband to stop. He does so, but Holly's relief is short lived.

"That my girl was just the warm-up, now I have your full attention we'll get started on your penance proper. Get down." Lips quivering, Holly slides off the table and stands visibly shaking before him.

"Good, now turn around and bend right over the table," he hands her a cushion, "get that right under your hips, I don't want you to bruise yourself.

"Grip the far side please and push your bottom up and out. Time to get those knickers off," - he hooks his fingers into the waistband of her flimsy lingerie and adroitly slides Holly's panties down. Despite the indignity she daintily steps out of them and Jon tosses the discarded tangle of silky material into the corner.

"Are you taking your punishment seriously now Holly," enquires Jon? "Is it having any result? Let's check." He sinks a questing digit deeply and easily into her sopping sex and begins finger-fucking his wanton wife, who, despite her distress and discomfort, rapidly becomes aroused.

"Whoa girl, you've a long way to go before we reach that stage," he laughs, probing gently with fingertip, slowly working it into her, a fraction at a time. She bites her lip and moans in response.

How shameful is this thinks Holly? Forced over a table, ass lewdly displayed, a finger slowly sinking into her sopping pussy, and loving the humiliation. Such a submissive little tart! "Not really a punishment at all if this is how you react" muses her master. "I can see I'm going to have to be a whole lot stricter with you." He pauses to let her take in the import of his words. Allows an ominous silence to hang in the air.

"You shouldn't be punishing me at all," Holly complains petulantly, "but if you're going to spank me, do it, just start!"

So he does, and Holly cries out as the plastic falls harshly across her buttocks. Short rapid taps, then harder blows make her tense in expectation. Again and again Jon brings the ruler down, striking each cheek repeatedly, laying on a proper hiding, spanking not only her bottom, but also the backs of her legs and her inner thighs. Alternating sides, sometimes harder, sometimes softer, as she dances painfully to his percussive tune.

Holly struggles to control her breathing, to slow it down and regain some semblance of control. Her bottom tingles and twitches; crimson and tender. How much more she wonders, despairingly? It's too much to take, if he doesn't stop soon I won't be able to walk, let alone sit

"Last 12, count them," growls Jon. Somehow she calls each burning impact out loud, the cumulative sting giving to a deep burning sensation as Jon, skillfully lands each of the dozen fiery strokes in a slightly different spot, crisscrossing her posterior with livid stripes, first appearing white against the pink skin, then rapidly turning red. Holly kicks her feet, futilely beats her hands on the tabletop. Squirms and bucks, but never once attempts to escape, nor stay his hand. Her bottom cheeks are seared with pain. "OH FUCK, THAT HURTS! PLEASE JON, STOP!"

Recognizing Holly has reached the limits of her considerable capacity for discipline Jon does so. Her derriere appears to be on fire. Holly's pert pretty posterior is so sore and tender she can feel it throbbing in unison with her pulse. The punishment has taken her right up to the mystical point where pain and pleasure unite and coming cannot be far away; she's almost disappointed that he stopped.

Except Jon hasn't, not quite; once more catching his diet- subverting wife unawares he applies the ruler sharply to the back of her calves, leaving a brace of all-too visible wheals on each.

"For all the world to see", he announces calmly, ignoring Holly's affronted protests. "Because right now you are going to fix your dress, reapply your make-up and walk down town on your man's arm to our favourite cafe. I don't think you'll be pulling your panties back up - far too painful - so you can go commando and sit, or more likely fidget, on that blazing bottom. Try to hide your blushes and hope no one on the other tables guesses you've just been thoroughly spanked. Oh, and you'll be drinking black coffee, with no sugar and certainly no cake.

"And then?" Holly enquires, tentatively.

"We'll come back home, and see about that orgasm you so obviously need."